


Maximum Ride - The Rewrite

by TheTartWitch



Category: Maximum Ride - James Patterson
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Human/Animal Hybrids, Kids with Wings, M/M, Male! Maximum Ride, Parody
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5139131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTartWitch/pseuds/TheTartWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maximum Ride parody where only one thing changes.<br/>Max was accidentally created as a boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maximum Ride - The Rewrite

**Author's Note:**

> All credit goes to James Patterson for Maximum Ride, except for my little twists.   
> This is a parody, so if you don't like that, sorry.

His breath huffs out of his throat desperately, becoming foggy clouds in the air as he races on. The hunting sniffles and snarls of the Erasers on his heels echo in the otherwise silent environment, bouncing off the thin trees and far-off peaks of the mountains in the distance. He pushes ahead wildly and flinches as a bullet grazes his upper right arm and the Erasers growl with excitement at an even louder pitch.

He breaks from the cover of foliage only to see the edge of a sheer cliff before him and stops, the wind trying to tug him off the rock to the dirt far below. His long blond hair sways in the wind, matted with dust and dried blood from the numerous scrapes on his cheeks and forehead. He glances back at the trees he just escaped and already the Erasers are closing in.

He takes a deep breath and pushes off on his right foot, letting himself fall in a belly flop through the air. The wolf-headed men bark in confusion before snarling lividly at the sight of him rising gracefully into the air on dark-brown-and-cream wings, the edges of his hospital gown flapping sullenly as he picks up speed and darts away.

-*-

He jolts awake, jerking upright and grabbing his chest in an attempt to control the heartbeat trying to burst out of his chest. His panting breaths are the only sound in the empty room besides the birdsong fluttering through the open window.

_Phew... it was just that dream again..._

He forces himself out from under his warm sheets, eyelids heavy as he blinks away the last remaining shreds of sleepiness and drags himself to the window to admire the mountain view as he tugs the shutters closed. The curtain is rustling and he bats it out of his face, smiling a little self-consciously as he remembers his state of undress: a tank top (thin, see-through white fabric that wouldn't be truly concealing to the eyes of his family), boxers (embarrassingly enough, they're Jeb's hand-me-downs), and long blond hair that was straggly and curled uncontrollably no matter what he did to it.

He sighed contentedly at the atmosphere. _Here, we are safe. If no one knows we're alive or where we are, we are safe. We are alive._

He dressed in his usual style: a black tank top under a long-sleeved white shirt, white skinny jeans that don't restrict his movements (which, let me tell you, were an absolute _miracle_ to find), and tall white boots. Stretching, he made his way into the kitchen and made sure to say his greetings to Jeb, their adoptive father. He was the one who'd saved them and brought them to this secret house in the middle of nowhere; he'd been their teacher, their protector, their father. But two years ago he'd disappeared. They knew he was dead, but they didn't talk about it. He, as the oldest, had taken over care of the others.

After attempting to cook something (he couldn't even remember what it was supposed to be), he couldn't help wrinkling his nose as he stared down at his monstrous creation. _Is this even edible?_

"Morning, Max." rings out from behind him, and he almost squeaks, blurting out a quick "Morning, Gazzy." as he shuffles to hide his nasty dish behind his back. He flinched when Gazzy murmured a sleepy "What's for breakfast?"

His blond hair was sticking up at all angles and his mouth a pouty sort of sleepy, his eyes grubby with crust. His pajamas were too big for him and flopped like mittens over his hands.

"Huh?!" Max bit out, panic overriding any words he might have said. Then he mumbled as he kissed the boy's forehead, "It's a surprise."

The plate of goop was conveniently hidden behind his back.

Gazzy smiled and went to the table, snagging the juice as he went. "I'll pour juice!" Max quickly scurried to the garbage, ready to dispose of his latest "mutation".

Suddenly, there was a loud sound or rather, several: the dull staccato thump of something solid striking the wooden floor, and the more worrying "ack!" as someone lost control and hit the ground hard. A moment later, an aggravated "who moved the table next to the stairs?!" A tall shadow fumbled to its feet and rubbed the knot no doubt forming on the back of its head.

Max was quick to apologize. "Sorry, Iggy." He paused, trying to think of an excuse. "The staircase just looked so empty." Only after it left his mouth did he realize how dopey that sounded.

"Don't forget I'm blind." Iggy admonished, shaking his fluffy head from side to side as he flopped onto the couch by vaulting over the armrest. _Then please act like you are!_ Max thought nervously, scratching over his scalp with a frail grin. Turning to the fridge, Max sighed. _Wish the food fairies had come..._ He bemoaned, using one hand to nudge the foodstuffs they _did_ have to the side so he could see more clearly into the fridge's guts.

 _Maybe we still have some cans left?_ Max thought hopefully as he stood, already turning to face the counter between he and the table where Gazzy was simply sitting, waiting for his breakfast. _It seems like making breakfast is harder than math. Not that I'm any good at math anyway..._ He let his breath out in a gust, shoulders relaxed, when all of a sudden his senses went nuts and something moved behind him. Since neither of the other two were freaking out, he figured it wasn't anything too dangerous. Still, when the prickling, tingling feeling persisted he began to glance behind himself. "Huh?"

His shoulder muscles twitched just as Max turned around and was faced with... a very bemused teenage boy about Max's own age, with long black hair down to his upper thigh currently tying it up in a ponytail.

Suddenly realizing he was sprawled on the floor a few feet away, heart pounding anxiously in his chest and clutching his palm to his chest defensively, he growled "Fang! Will you quit that?!"

"Quit what?" Fang countered, his face angular and sharp. "Breathing?"

"Make some noise when you move! You startled me!" Max whined, waving his arms in the air only to be ignored by the males in the kitchen.

"I'll make eggs." Iggy was offering, standing unsteadily from the couch and beginning to make his way towards the actual cooking area. "I don't want Max to burn our last frying pan." He explained over Gazzy's exclamations of 'when did you get up, Fang?', and Max's feelings at this point can only be described as 'wordless rage'.

He contains himself and begins to stomp out the door, tossing the words "fine. I'll go get Nudge and Angel." over his shoulder at the exasperated Fang and the humming chef Iggy. Fang took another bite out of his apple, eyes still glued on the empty doorway Max had left through. He didn't say a word.

-*-

"Hey, sweetie, up and at 'em!" Max shouted as he flung the girls' door wide with one arm, the earlier slight to his person forgotten in his exuberance. "Breakfast in ten!"

His hand closed on Nudge's shoulder and he began to shake the brown-haired awake as she mumbled "wha'?" and tugged the blanket up to her chin.

Max put a hand under each of her arms and lifted her up into the air as she dangled, limp as a rag doll. "Another day. Get up and face it." He said grimly, before turning to the other side of the room and the tiny cornered canopy bed currently housing their youngest flock member. "Angel, you up?" He questioned, an easy smile rising to his lips. Nudge was waking up and he allowed her to pull away so he could tug the edge of the canopy out of place.

And there sat Angel, drowning in stuffed animals and fluffy pillows and dolls, almost down putting on a dress that had the top buttons and lace undone. "Hi Max." She says easily, her namesake's smile shining through.

"Hey," he mused, gentle affectation tilting his lips. "You're already dressed." 

"Can you do my buttons?" Angel asked, tugging her tufty hair out of the way and baring her neck. 

"Yep." He knelt on his knees and grasped the buttons on Angel's dress. _I just love, love, love Angel. Maybe it's because I've practically raised her..._

"Maybe it's because I'm like your little girl." Max startled and glanced up to see Angel smiling easily. Max pressed a finger to his lips.

"Oops, you read my mind again! Don't tell anyone, okay?" He winked conspiratorially. Angel wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

"I won't." She smiled, nuzzling him. "Besides, I love you best too."

-*-

"I want to go pick strawberries today." Angel said, raising her fork to her mouth and chewing. "They're ripe now." 

"I'll go with you, Angel!" Gazzy stood quickly, his chair scooting backwards and his butt releasing a puff of noxious air. Everyone's nose immediately wrinkled.

"Oh, geez, Gazzy!"

"I'm done." Fang stands, ready to put his plate in the sink.

"Gas... mask!" Iggy feigns choking and strangles his nose in an attempt to not breathe in. Nudge simply makes a fist around her own nose, as do Max and Angel. Gazzy continues to eat and while he apologizes it doesn't exactly sound sincere.

"Yeah, Angel, I think the _fresh air_ will do us all some good. I'll go too." Nudge smiles and gestures with her fork. Max turns to Angel and smiles.

“We’ll all go. How’s that?” He asks, and Gazzy waves his arms manically. “Yay!” Fang nods agreeably.

Angel grins and lets Max pet her hair. “Thanks, Max.”

-*-

The field is wide open and covered in strawberry patches. The white peaks of mountains rise in the distance, and tall evergreens push navy leaves into the sky nearby. Gazzy streaks ahead, arms flung wide as he shrieks “woo-hoo!” and almost steps on a bush. Everyone else is a little more subdued.

Angel kneels to scrounge from a smaller bush. Max is guiltily sneaking berries from her basket and is a little startled when Angel says brightly, “If you make cake, I can make strawberry shortcakes.”

Max doesn’t say anything in response, just sort of sits there and lets Angel’s cuteness wash over him. Iggy wanders closer. The moment is ruined by the remark that floats over Max’s shoulder.

“Yeah, that’ll be the day, when Max makes a cake. I’ll make it, Angel.” It sounds like Iggy and Max feels his face twitch. He thinks he might develop a slight tic in his eyelid if this continues.

“Oh, thank you!” He stands, hands on his hips and eyes glaring holes into Iggy, who startles and waves his hands in a sign of innocence that Max ignores. “Okay, I’m not a fabulous cook. But I can still kick your butt and don’t you forget it!”

All of a sudden he notices Gazzy, the boy who can mimic almost anyone’s voice, practically collapsed on the ground nearby. Fang and Nudge, a little farther away, are snorting in amusement. He stands over Gazzy and lets his glacial countenance surround him. “Was that you?”

Gazzy attempts to strangle the laugh but it still bubbles out.

“How many times have I told you not to play mimicking jokes on others?” He growls, grabbing the boy’s cheek and yanking him to his feet.

“Ack! But it’s fun!” Gazzy giggles, and behind Max Iggy joins in.

Nudge is laughing out loud now too. “Better noises from that end…” she adds, causing Fang to smile wider.

There’s a good moment spent on wrestling and mock-fighting, with everyone laughing and happy, but the moment is ruined by Angel’s scream of terror, immediately grabbing Max and the others’ attention.

It’s Erasers. Huge half-wolf half-men soldiers created alongside Max’s family. The one in the lead is covered in scars and without a shirt, standing scarily close over Angel and smirking down at her. The strawberries are forgotten quickly as more drop down from the helicopter hovering above the field.

Wings expand and flap with a loud rustling sound. Black, white, brown-and-cream, russet, and ginger.

“Erasers!” Max snarls, sweat dampening his forehead.

Angel turns on the ground, dirt skidding up behind her as she dashes for “Max!” The lead Eraser sneers and snatches at Angel’s dress with a clawed hand.

“Angel!” Max roars, eyes wide, as he watches Angel get shoved into a large cloth bag and dragged away. Gazzy pushes forward, trying to reach his little sister, and Max jolts awake, immediately rushing towards the closest Eraser and shouldering him out of the way.

Fang catches up and they’re almost there, so close, but a pair of hands close on their wings and wrists in an iron grip, restraining them.

“Let me go!” Max snarls, but out of the corner of his eye he spots a black smudge – Fang, he realizes, on the ground and getting his ribs bruised by an Eraser’s foot. A fist slams into his own stomach, pushing the air out of his lungs and leaving him to gasp painfully. The rest of his family is held tight by Erasers and prevented from aiding him, and he curses their opponent in his mind as Angel’s bag is hoisted over an Eraser’s shoulder and walked away with. A boot lands in his gut and he coughs, trying to breathe and not choke on the blood rising out of his throat.

“Max, good to see you again.” A shadow rises up, blocking out the sun, and Max flinches, his eyebrows pulling together. “You look like crap. You always acted so much better than everyone else…” The face becomes clearer, but Max still doesn’t recognize the Eraser. He remembers it was the first one to reach Angel, the one to catch her, but anything else… “…so I have to admit this cheers me up.”

_Do I know him?_

“Who are you?” He asks, eyes wide, and the talkative one grins. He raises a claw and asks, “You don’t recognize me? I guess I’ve grown some.”

A memory scratches at the edges of Max’s mind, of a little boy with Jeb, always tagging around… “Jeb’s son… Ari?! But you’re only seven years old!”

He’s brutally unprepared for the raucous laugh the boy lets out, like a crow’s calling, or the heavy blow landed on his gut, leaving him to dribble out stomach acid. His family calls out his name, but they can’t reach him in time. Ari rests his boot on Max’s arm and presses, exerting pressure until he has to cry out.

The boot is suddenly flying at his head and one last thought makes it through: _Angel!_

-*-


End file.
